


Glass Shard Ghosts

by Mabel_Quartz



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mabel_Quartz/pseuds/Mabel_Quartz
Summary: Stanley Pines has successfully faked his own death and taken on his brother's identity. When a former flame comes with condolences, he is returned to a time from his past, and confronted yet again with the problems of his present. Basically an AU I thought up where Stan and Carla McCorkle are reunited. Because I'm a sucker for this pairing. Rated T for mild language.





	1. Skipped His Own Funeral

The newspaper read in big, bold letters: "STAN PINES DEAD". Stan Pines looked at the headline and grinned. He'd actually pulled it off; who'd have known that the biggest lie of his life would be his death? Stanley Pines was officially gone, and it was time for Stanford Pines to take his place. It's not like anyone would miss Stanley, anyway. Ex-Stanley-Now-Stanford leaned back against the counter and began to think about a funeral. He didn't really need one, did he? Nobody in Gravity Falls had known Stanley Pines, and he couldn't think of anywhere non-local to hold one, other than Glass Shard Beach. And Glass Shard Beach was a place he was never returning to. Besides, he didn't have the money. No, he decided, a funeral wasn't necessary. The sound of the phone ringing interrupted his train of thought. He jumped a little before picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Stanford, it's your mom. I have some bad news…" His mom sounded like she'd been crying. Stanley's heart felt like it was imploding. His mom's voice was one he hadn't heard in years. He suddenly couldn't remember how to talk. His mom took in a shaky breath on the other end of the line. "You might want to sit down, honey. Stanford?" Stanley forced himself to breathe again.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm—I'm sitting. Go on, ma." Did he sound enough like Ford? Geez, how did someone even sound like Ford? His mom seemed to buy it, however.

"Your brother…baby, Stanley's dead." He heard her let out a sob, and vaguely registered that his stomach felt like ice. He was aware that he should be saying something, but what should he say? What was the proper response from a grieving brother? He regained his wits and put up a heart wrenching performance into the phone.

"Oh." It was quiet, final. His mom was still crying. She managed to get some words out that Stanley could understand.

"—having a funeral, y-you should come s-say goodbye—" Stanley internally cursed like a sailor. He would love to see his mom again; hell, just a few months ago he would've done anything to be able to see her again. But even though he and Ford were identical twins, they had some physical differences. Stanley looked at his hands. "Two differences, in fact…" he thought miserably. He heard himself speak.

"I can't go." There was no emotion in his words. His mother was silent for a moment.

"I haven't even told you what day—"

"I just can't go, ma. I'm sorry." He stood there gripping the phone, white-knuckled, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He struggled to think of something else to say for a moment, before rushing out an "I love you." Then he hung up the phone. He continued to stand next to the phone, waiting for his grief-stricken mother to call back.

The phone didn't ring again that day.


	2. A Visit to Her Dead Ex-Boyfriend

As soon as her car rolled into town, Carla felt as if she was thrown back in time. She felt her lips twitch upwards in the first time in days, and it admittedly felt pretty good to smile. Reaching over to the crank on the inside of her door, she rolled the window down and took in a breath of sea air coming in from the coast, separated from her only by a wall of shops and houses. She eased to a stop at a red light and instantly noticed she was next to her favorite ice cream parlor from when she was in high school. The smile on her face became wider. Maybe later, she could swing by there and get a sundae. Or she could go to the beach, take off her shoes, run in the sand, and let the waves engulf her up to her neck as if she weren't wearing a nice dress that didn't need to get wet. She could feel like she was five again and picnicking with her family, dark curls flying behind her as she chased seagulls and excitedly showed her parents seashells. She could go lose her cares in the ocean as soon as she was done with—

The smile left her face as she suddenly remembered why she was even in her home town in the first place. She tightened her grip on the wheel and swallowed past the sudden, growing lump in her throat, trying to will the aching feeling in her stomach to go away. It wasn't until the car behind her honked that she realized the light had turned green again, and she was expected to move on already. As she began driving again, she hauled in a shaky breath and began muttering to herself as she tended to do when she was under stress.

"C'mon, Carla, focus on happy things…focus on happy things…only happy things until you get there…" She began humming to herself, rather feebly, and pretended she was sixteen again.

The funeral was small, but definitely not cozy. All Carla could think was that, were this a movie, the entire town would've showed up in a heartwarming, final gesture. But this was reality, and nowhere near the entire town had been friends with Stanley. Carla got there about ten minutes before it started, and hung back near the door. She didn't think that Stanley's grieving parents would really want to see their dead son's ex-girlfriend. In her right hand, she held a bouquet of soft, pink flowers she had gotten on the way there, to put on the coffin; they were the same kind Stanley used to pick for her.

She tried to remain invisible. Mrs. Pines saw her anyway. She approached Carla, a handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand.

"Hey there...who are you, exactly?" Her hoarse voice, sharp with New Jersey accent, came from behind her handkerchief. That was one thing Carla liked about Mrs. Pines: she always got right to the point. Carla cleared her throat awkwardly and averted her eyes.

"It's, uh, it's me, Carla McCorkle. I dunno if you remember me, I was…I, uh, used to be Stanley's girlfriend, and, uh…" She trailed off, fists bunching the fabric of her dress at her sides, something she hadn't done since she was a kid. Mrs. Pines' eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh, wow…you look different from when I last saw you."

Carla couldn't tell if she meant it negatively or positively. She acted as if it was definitely the latter.

"Yep, over a decade will do that to you…" She chuckled. Mrs. Pines gave a tight smile.

"Well, there are drinks in the foyer if you want any." She said in her thick, wavering voice. She then gave the younger woman an awkward nod and walked away. Carla let out a deep sigh of relief she hadn't known she'd been holding. She'd been so afraid of some nasty comment, some snide "Oh, yeah, you're that easy chick my son used to make out with in high school. Didn't you hit the road with him? What, did he knock you up or somethin'?" She had no idea why she was envisioning Stanley's mother talking like a high schooler in the 1960s, but nevertheless.

Carla crossed her arms in front of her and began milling about, trying to avoid talking to anyone. She spotted Mr. Filbrick Pines standing in one of the corners, also not talking to anyone. Carla immediately resolved to avoid him especially; he had scared her when she was a teenager, and he scared her now. Standing not too far from him was Shermie Pines, holding his son's hand. Carla could barely contain her surprise at how much the boy had grown; when she'd last seen Shermie's son, he had been an infant living with Stanley and Stanford, being raised by his grandparents while his dad worked his butt off in the hopes that he could become somebody for his unexpected child. The boy had to have been about twelve now, a conflicted look on his face; it struck Carla that there was no way he remembered his uncle, no way that he was grieving like his father or grandmother. She was seriously debating whether or not to go say hi, when Shermie made the decision for her.

"Carla? Carla McCorkle?"

Her heart jumped to her throat. "Sh-Shermie! Hi! Long time, no see, huh?"

The eldest Pines brother's lips twitched upwards in a half-smile as he walked over to her, leaving his quiet son with his wife. "Quite a while, yes. How, uh…how have you been doing?"

Carla put on what she hoped was a convincing fake smile. "I've been doing fine. How about you?"

She felt guilty for not absorbing anything that came out of his mouth in response. There was just something so blatantly boring about Shermie Pines that made you feel more brain-dead the longer you talked to him. Conversations with him usually involved the word "economy" used over-abundantly. She just smiled tightly and nodded like she always had back when she'd held conversations with him at the Pines's whenever he visited from college. She found herself scanning the room over his shoulder as he talked, and it suddenly hit her who she wasn't seeing: Stanford. Her eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Hey, Shermie…not to interrupt, sorry, but, where's Ford?"

A look of awkward tension crossed Shermie's face. "Oh, uh…he's not coming to the funeral. Ma called him and everything, but…yeah, he's not coming."

"What?! Is he…is he unable to, or…?"

"Dunno…he just told mom he wasn't coming and then hung up."

Carla's jaw dropped; she knew about the rift between Stanley and Stanford, of course she did, but…not coming to your own brother's funeral? Not coming to your own twin's funeral? Hopefully there wasn't anything terribly wrong…besides his brother being dead, of course. Maybe he just couldn't handle it emotionally. Carla suddenly felt intense empathy for Ford; after all, she'd known him in high school, and the two had been good friends. And now he was having to deal with his brother being dead, presumably alone.

"Where is Ford nowadays, Shermie?"

"He lives up in Oregon in this little town called Gravity Falls. He's a scientist of some sort. I'm not really sure what kind…he doesn't really keep in touch that much. Not at all, lately."

Huh. Oregon. That was definitely of change of scenery. It was also about a two day's drive away from where she currently was, and she had a week of no plans ahead of her.

She missed her friend. She missed his dorky laugh and big words and nice, genuine talks. And she really needed someone to talk to who might understand her loss a little better, who had known Stanley more like she had. True, he'd let his brother get kicked out of the house all those years ago, but she was willing to put that aside for now. 'Besides,' she thought, feeling a familiar knot of guilt beginning to form in her stomach, 'he's not the only one out of the two of us to abandon Stanley.'

She'd had the courage to go back to her hometown, to go to the funeral, to face these people whom she hadn't seen in years in order to say goodbye. She might as well see Ford again while she was high on courage.

Man, she really hadn't expected this whole closure thing to be a two-part ordeal.


	3. Busted

Stanley's phone still hadn't rung two weeks later. He wasn't complaining, of course; he'd been dreading receiving another call from the family. It still left him feeling kinda…empty, though: knowing they didn't care enough to call back. Or, did it mean they didn't care enough about Ford to call back? Eh, it didn't really matter at this point.

Keeping himself busy wasn't hard, what with it being tourist season and all. With a steady stream of people coming and going that warm June day, he toyed with the idea of replacing the front door with a revolving one, before considering the plague of mosquitos that descended upon the town like a punishment from God during the summer. This was his first summer here, and it was still early on, but he'd heard enough horror stories.

It was late afternoon. Stanley was taking a much-deserved break from a full day of giving tours and lying through his teeth for profit. Leaning against the counter, sipping from a bottle of Pitt Cola, he had a perfect view of the front lawn, and he'd been peacefully watching a squirrel scurry its way up a tree. He perked up, however, when saw a baby blue car pulling up outside. He adjusted his tie and fez, preparing to ham it up. When he saw the person getting out of the car, however, he froze.

She looked different, of course. Nearly a decade will do that to you. But it was unmistakably her. She didn't seem her usual energetic self, lacking that spring in her step, but she had the same long, dark hair, and the same kind, brown eyes. He recognized her eyes because they'd locked onto his, right after she'd finished locking her car door. With zero grace, Stan ducked out of view of the window, knocking a few things off the counter in the process. He scurried behind the counter, panicking, trying to gather his thoughts.

'Why is Carla here?!' He thought, panicked. 'Why the hell is Carla McCorkle here?! How'd she know where to find me?! Why did she want to find me?! She said she never wanted to see me again!'

He could hear her shoes click-clacking on the porch.

'Oh god, oh god, oh GOD-'

The shop's bell let out a pleasant ring, and Stanley heard Carla's voice for the first time in years.

"Hello? The, uh, the sign says 'open', so I figured…I-I could come back later, if this is a bad time. If you can even hear me. I could've sworn I saw somebody, but for all I know, I could be talking into an empty shop."

'I could just hide here and stay invisible. She doesn't have to know I'm here!' As he thought this, he moved his elbow ever so slightly and accidentally knocked a "Murder Hut Mystery Box" off its shelf, sending it clattering loudly onto the floor. Cringing, Stanley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Might as well get this over with. He popped up from behind the counter like a jack-in-the-box.

"Welcome to the Murder Hut, valued customer! Can I interest you in some reasonably-priced knick knacks?"

Carla jumped at his sudden appearance, eyes wide, clutching her bag.

"Holy cow!" She looked him up and down before smiling slightly. "Hey! I-It's me, Carla!"

He was so, so tempted to respond 'who?', but he knew it would be a bit of a stretch to act like he didn't remember her. She'd start trying to jog his memory, and the whole act would fall apart.

"Carla, what…what are you even doing here? Th-This is just sorta…unexpected, I mean…"

Her face fell ever so slightly, and he felt this weird tug in his gut that felt like it belonged to someone else.

"I'm sorry, I should've called first or something, I just, um, I came to…I-I just came to see you again, and give condolences for, uh." She cleared her throat and refused to look at him. "For Stanley."

'She thinks I'm Ford. Of course she thinks I'm Ford! Stanley Pines is legally dead! …I'm not sure if this makes the situation better or worse.'

"Oh. So, you heard about that." He'd made the conscious decision to make his voice sound more like Ford's. He did a pretty good Ford impression, if he did say so himself.

"Yeah, my parents still live in Glass Shard, y'know, so they heard about it, and my mom told me on the phone, and…yeah." She cleared her throat again awkwardly. "You weren't at the funeral, so—"

"You went to the funeral?" Stanley's heart leapt against his will. Carla had cared enough to go to his funeral. Granted, he wasn't actually dead, but the sentiment was the same.

Carla looked a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah, I thought…I thought it was only right, considering…" She trailed off, then finally looked him in the eyes. "I'm sure this is hard for you, Ford…you two used to be so close…" She purposefully left out the fact that the last time Stanley and Ford had seen each other had been when Stanley had gotten kicked out onto the streets. "You know, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm...I'm here for you."

Stan remained silent, not knowing for the life of him what to say. It was funny, really: He'd imagined what he would say to her if they ever met again a million times, and here she was in front of him, and his tongue was tied. She looked so miserable, though, he just had to say something.

"That, uh, that's real sweet of you, Carla."

She gave him a tight smile for his efforts. "Is it alright if I hang around a little longer?"

'She's gonna know something's up if she stays here much longer.'

"Sure thing, Carla."

She began to wander around the shop. "Real interesting place you got here, Ford. I thought you were a scientist?"

"W-Well, y'know, I figured I might as well showcase my findings."

"Uh-huh. Findings like the—" She raised her eyebrow at a particular display. "—Sascrotch?"

"Hey, I'll have you know I found that beast in the forest not one week ago!"

She stared at him amusedly.

"…or at least that's what I tell the tourists."

She let out a small laugh, and he laughed with her.

"I never took you for the…swindle-y type, Ford."

"Well, you know, people change. A lot."

"Ain't that the truth."

The two stared at each other in silence for a minute. Stanley still couldn't get over the fact that she was actually there, physically standing in front of him and talking to him after five years of no contact; she was still gorgeous. 

The smile slid off Carla's face. "Look, Ford, I…I want to apologize."

"Apologize?" 'Why the hell would she be apologizing to Ford? If anything, she should be apologizing to me! …Well, I guess she is, but she doesn't know that!' He felt unbidden anger flare in his chest.

"I wanted to apologize for us parting on not-the-best terms. I really, really hated losing you as a friend. It's something I've wanted to apologize for for a while, but I never worked up the courage 'til now. I just…your brother had gotten kicked out, and I wasn't about to let him go alone! I was young and in love and stupid and-"

"Oh, so going with him was stupid?" A sudden venom had crept into his voice without him meaning for it to.

"Woah, hey, no, I didn't mean—"

"Was it something you regretted, or somethin'?"

"I wouldn't say regretted, more like—"

"Was bein' his girlfriend something you regretted?"

"Hell no!"

"Because from what I understand, it wasn't too hard for you to dump his ass in the dirt and run off without givin' him a second thought!"

"Ford!" She looked shocked, and had already begun to blink angrily, a sign she was fighting off tears. There was a moment of silence in which she tried to pull herself together. "H-How did you even know about…?"

'Crap, crap, don't blow your cover, genius.' "Stanley called me and told me. He got pretty low after you left, y'know low enough to call." His lying was becoming more and more smooth these days.

Carla closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. "Funny, I tried to get him to call you a million times while we were together. Who would've known me leaving would be the thing to…?" She shook her head. "Look. The point is that what you said isn't true. It wasn't easy to break up with Stanley! Ending a relationship is never easy! And I didn't just--just--dump his ass in the dirt and never think about him again! We were together for years, it was impossible for me to just forget him!" The tears welled in her eyes began to spill out onto her cheeks. "A-And I don't wanna dig this up, because I've been told that it's 'not my business' by whom? Oh, yeah, you! But I've been pretty generous not mentioning you letting him get kicked out when we were all teenagers! He told me you didn't even try to stick up for him!"

There was the spitfire he knew. 

"H-He had to cheat and lie and scrap and save for years because his family turned his back on him! He went to prison i-in three different countries, did you know that?! And I was there for him, every single time, while you were apparently up in OREGON, pretending he didn't exist!" She was shaking now, sobs beginning to wrack her body. "I-I know this is hard for you, i-it's gotta be, no matter how mad you were at him, b-because I know how much you two loved each other, or at least I know he loved you, but this is hard as hell for me, too! Do you not think I feel guilty? Do you not think maybe this could be my fault?!"

"Woah, hey, him dying wasn't—"

"How do you know?! You said he got low enough to call you, who's to say he didn't—" She stopped, closing her eyes tightly, letting a few more tears escape. "I-I know how he got when he was really upset. I mean, he crashed m-my...the guy I left him for, he crashed his van into a ravine..." She wiped at her eyes and exhaled shakily. "He was the first person I ever fell in love with, Ford. I didn't...I didn't STOP loving him."

Stan could feel his heart twisting in his chest, and it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He walked out from behind the counter. "H-Hey, hey, Carla, c'mon…" He took her hands in his gently, running his thumb along the back of her hand. "I'm sorry for snappin' at you, I know you're grieving."

Carla sniffled. "So are you, I shouldn't have gotten angry…he was your twin, it wasn't--"

"It's okay, I started it."

She smiled slightly and began swinging their hands between them slightly, like a child would swing a basket. "It's just…there were times I missed him a lot, y'know? And that doesn't compare to now that I know I CAN'T see him again...I'd do anything to apologize to him, tell him that I really did love him, that I meant everything I said, that I…"

She stopped swinging their hands between the two of them.

Slowly, she brought Stan's right hand in front of her face and pressed her palm flat against his. And just stared.

"Ford." Her face was unreadable, her voice flat with disbelief. "Did you lose a finger since I last saw you?"

Stan's eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, like a goldfish.

"I, uh, y'see, the funny thing about that, is, uh…" He sighed. "Crap."


	4. A Lot to Take In

Carla McCorkle had never felt such a strong rush of emotions in her life.

Her lungs were screaming for air, though she was fairly sure she was breathing. She was angry as hell and scared out of her mind and suddenly the whole world had gone off its hinges. Everything was quiet, save for the pounding of her heart, and she didn't even hear Stanley's half-assed fumble for an excuse at first. All she could really process was that her dead ex-boyfriend was standing in front of her with that stupid, familiar, apologetic look on his face, and there was a scream bubbling in her chest. She inhaled sharply to let it out, and Stanley slapped his hand over her mouth.

"No, no, don't do that! Listen, I know this looks real bad, but I promise you it's not what it looks like."

Carla, never having liked being silenced, especially by force, bit his hand. He yelped and drew it away, shaking it. She took a few horrified steps away from him, looking like a deer in the headlights.

"I'm giving you one minute to explain before I call the police."

"What?! Police?! One minute?! That's not fair!"

"Fifty-five seconds."

"Okay okay, look, it's a really long story that I can't possibly fit in a minute, but you gotta trust me, Carla, I—"

"If you're alive, where's Ford?"

"There was this, uh…accident, and, uh—"

"Oh my god."

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're pretending to be him! Do you know how bad that looks?!"

"I, uh…"

"It makes it seem like you killed your brother and took his name!"

Carla was beginning to panic again. "Stanley, please, please tell me you didn't—"

"I would never kill my brother!"

"THEN WHERE IS HE?!"

"I WISH I KNEW!"

The shop's bell let out a pleasant ring, and a frizzy-haired woman with large glasses walked in. She took a step back when she regarded Stanley, looking desperate and red in the face, and Carla, with her wild-looking eyes puffy from crying. "I'll, uh…I'll leave you two to…whatever this is…" And she backed out.

The interruption caused both Stanley and Carla to cool down slightly. Stanley walked over to the door and turned the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Carla, please, just…let me show you somethin', okay? I ain't gonna force you. You don't have to stay. You can…you can run out that door if you want, and call the cops, but I'm begging ya. Please." He held his hand out, giving her a small smile. Then his smile faltered. "Actually, I-I take that back, please don't call the cops. I'd appreciate if you didn't call the cops, even if you do choose to not hear me out."

Carla felt a rush of affection, against her will. She was still confused. And angry. And terrified. But at the same time…this was Stanley. This was the boy who used to bring her flowers when she was feeling down, and even if they were just weeds he'd pulled out of the ground on the way home, they were beautiful to her. The boy who would sing to her so off-key that she was sure some poor dog nearby was scratching at its ear in pain, but he was trying, and that's what mattered. The boy she used to love so much she'd be willing to put everything on the line for him. And he'd loved her just as much in return. She let out a shaky breath, and slowly took a step towards him.

"Fine. Let's go." She eyed his outstretched hand. "I'm not holding your hand, though."

Stanley quickly put his hand back by his side. "Right. Uh. C'mon, then."

If Carla hadn't thought Stanley had lost his marbles before, she certainly did when he started punching numbers into the shop's vending machine.

"I don't...Stan, I don't think this is a good snack time."

"Just watch."

When the machine slid open, she began to debate whether or not she'd lost her marbles, too.

The vending machine secret entrance was nothing, however, in comparison to the giant portal.

"There is nothing about this I understand." Carla said bluntly as she stared up at the gigantic metal monster before her. 

"From what I can gather from Ford's writing, it's some sort of…portal to another dimension. He and some other guy built it to 'enlighten mankind' or some crap like that."

"What other guy?"

"God, I wish I knew. He might be able to help. But Ford just calls him "F" in his journal."

"So…how did he disappear into this?"

Stanley's expression instantly hardened, and Carla's heart dropped. Oh god, did she really want to know? …yes, she really wanted to know. "Stanley?"

"He…that accident I mentioned earlier, uh…"

"Oh, Jesus…did he fall in?"

Stanley stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his face full of conflicting emotions. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Yeah. The thing sucked him in."

He looked so…broken. Carla could feel that familiar ache in her chest for him that she'd felt so many times before. If she wasn't still so furious with him for faking his death, she'd reach out to comfort him. She held herself back, though, just as she'd held herself back from slapping him earlier.

"Stanley, I…I'm really sorry. That's…really not something you hear every day, but it's awful." It was funny, really; she'd come to comfort Stanford over the loss of Stanley, and here she was comforting Stanley for the loss of Stanford. Life was funny that way.

"So you believe me?" God, he sounded so hopeful.

"Well, I am staring at a giant portal three levels under your house, so…"

"Carla, Christ, I can't thank you enough for believing m—"

"Hey, don't thank me yet, buster. You're still not off the hook for faking a tragic, flaming car accident." She poked her finger against his chest.

"Woah, hey, that was—"

"Could you explain your faked death to me upstairs? I don't really like being this far underground."

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

"Thank you."

The entire elevator ride back up, Carla kept side-eying Stanley.

He'd definitely changed, but of course, almost ten years will do that to you. He was wearing more layers than she was used to seeing him in, and the mullet was…interesting. Not bad, just…interesting. She kinda wanted to braid it. 'Can you braid mullets? Is that a thing you can do?'

The elevator dinged open, interrupting her train of thought. As they exited and began their ascent up the stairs, she sighed.

"So, it was absolutely necessary to fake your death because…?"

"Look, Stanley Pines was banned in over half of the U.S.'s states, had several various gangs out for his head, and had the cops on his tail most of the time. It would've only been a matter of time before something caught up to me. I mean, you caught up to me, didn't you?"

Carla felt her lips quirk upwards again. He had a point there.

"Besides," he continued. "Stanford Pines is the one who signed the deed to this house, not Stanley Pines."

He swung the vending machine open, and they stepped back out into the shop, into daylight. Carla sighed and brushed her hands down her skirt, a nervous habit she'd never quite gotten rid of.

"This is a really complicated situation."

"You're telling me." He said it in a griping tone, but Carla could read on his face that he was still just so relieved to have someone know the truth and not run away. More importantly, not call the police. He also looked a little anxious, like he wanted to say something.

"Something on your mind, Stan?"

"I, uh…I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you're still with that Thistle guy."

Carla's stomach twisted sharply and uncomfortably.

"We actually split up not too long ago."

"Oh. You end it, or…?"

"You could say that, yeah. I got sick of the lifestyle, y'know? It was a bit too much, even for me, the free love, the drugs—"

"Holy crap, you were doing drugs?!"

Carla smiled sheepishly. "Just a little Mary Jane here and there, nothing life-ruining. What, you think I've been snorting coke in the ladies' room since we split up?"

"I dunno, I just—whatever."

"I just…it was fun. For a while. Then one night, I sorta felt like I woke up. Like I'd been only half awake that whole time and it was time to wake up and hit the road. So, I did."

She wasn't going to elaborate. She hadn't told the whole truth, of course, but...the whole truth could wait. Until...forever, preferably. 

Stanley sniffed and nodded. "So. Is that how it was with me?"

Carla felt like the floor had fallen out beneath her suddenly. "…what?"

"Did you 'wake up' one day and say 'Huh. I just realized I don't love Stan!'" That growing anger was back in his voice.

"Stanley, c'mon, do we really have to—"

"Carla, you up and left me right outta the blue! You barely even gave me any warning!"

"I gave you plenty of warning, Stanley Filbrick Pines." After all these years, Carla still couldn't believe that Mr. and Mrs. Pines had given both their twin sons the middle name "Filbrick". Sure, it was their old man's name, but you'd think their parents would've varied it at least a little.

"No, you didn't give me any warning! We had one blow-up fight that we were on our way to fixing, then you up and left! How the hell is that fair?!"

"It was my decision, you should respect it!"

"Was it your decision? Was it really?"

"Stan, if you try to tell me that Thistle hypnotized me one more time, I swear to God-"

"I'm just sayin', that 'dimensional healing' crap was pretty suspicious."

"He's a hippie! What do you expect?!"

Sure, his music had been beautiful. Enchanting, even. It was nothing like anything she'd ever heard, and it swept her off her feet. And he'd been so kind to her every time he came to the Juke Joint to perform while she was working there. Her falling for him wasn't hypnosis! Hypnosis was not a thing that happened to people! Okay, maybe in stage shows for short amounts of time, but not actual magic-y hypnosis in real life.

Stanley sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's just say for now that he didn't force you or manipulate you into leaving—"

"Because he didn't—"

"—if you really wanted an out from our relationship, why did you stick around so long?"

The flood of emotions that swept through her wasn't pretty, nor was it easy to figure out. She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling as countless memories of their good times together flew through her mind like a slideshow on speed.

"Because I thought we could make it work. I kept—"

"We could make it work."

"Let me finish. I kept telling myself that we would both get better jobs soon, that we would stumble across opportunity, that we would be able to buy a house instead of rent crappy apartment after apartment, that we wouldn't have to worry about where our next meal was coming from in the near future. I kept telling myself that, and working so hard to make it true, but…God, I was so tired, Stanley. So tired of that life."

Stanley looked heartbroken. She couldn't blame him. He looked imploringly at her with his dark, coffee-brown eyes.

"Tired of me?"

Carla felt a stab of guilt and regret pierce her heart. She looked up at this man, this scrappy, funny, loving man who punched the teeth out of a mugger for her, before he even knew her. The dorky teenager she'd fallen in love with, who was now a man with so much behind him and so much ahead of him, and she felt herself melt like she had when she was fifteen.

An hour ago, he'd been dead. And here he was, standing in front of her, waiting sadly for an answer, and…God, she could never be tired of him. Her mouth moved without her mind telling it to.

"God, Stanley, never."

Then, allowing herself to act impulsively for the first time in ages, she grabbed him by the front of the shirt and kissed him hard, aware she was sending mixed messages, but not really caring in the heat of the moment, because she wanted this.

Behind her closed eyelids, she saw stars.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to leave a comment if you want; if you don't want to, that's okay too! Either way, thanks for reading!


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